


Breathe

by deedeeinfj



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: Phryne wants to try something that Jack isn't sure he can handle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/gifts).



> I know I blame Fire_Sign for a lot of things, but this is truly her fault. Here's our [quite abridged] conversation:
> 
> FS: I'm now convinced Phryne's into erotic asphyxiation. Which is 100% not my kink, but the idea has lodged itself in my head rather unpleasantly  
> me: those fics make me so uncomfortable  
> FS: Now I just have to find someone to do it  
> me: you're kind of making me want to try it, and I know nothing about it and don't even like it..... which is what makes me want to write it, actually  
> FS: [gif of Jack saying "please"]
> 
> One of the best ways to beat writer's block - especially the kind where you're in a rut - is to face what makes you squirm, so here goes. 
> 
> Did I mention that this is Fire_Sign's fault?

Jack paused at the end of the chapter of the Peter Wimsey mystery he had been reading aloud to Phryne. He couldn’t see her face, but she lay so quiet and still against him that he assumed she must have fallen asleep. Lord Peter’s antics and witticisms usually had her chuckling along.

Ever since she had first asked him to read to her, he had come to enjoy the strange intimacy of it. It wasn’t only that they were most often in her bed, partially or completely undressed, and it wasn’t only that she had made clear on many occasions how she loved listening to his voice. It was domestic in a way that he had never dared to hope for.

Holding his place in the book with his thumb, he used his free hand to stroke her hair behind her ear. To his surprise, her eyes were open.

“Tired?” he asked.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she replied.

Dread immediately flooded his gut. Was this it, then? He had thought they were happy; they had made passionate love just that morning, and he didn’t know how he could have misread the look in her eyes as she moved over him. Perhaps, though, they had simply come to the point when Phryne needed something more. Something – someone – different.

He closed the book and set it aside, then pushed himself up into a slightly more upright position. Phryne shifted with him, though she laid her head back on his chest, toying with one of his pyjama buttons. Jack closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

“There’s something I want to do with you,” she said.

_That_ was unexpected. He opened his eyes and frowned at the wall opposite them. “Oh?”

Phryne lifted her head then and met his eyes. “It’s something I’ve wanted to try for a long time, but I never… It requires the utmost trust, and I never had that with anyone.” She cupped his jaw in her palm. “Not until you.”

Still reeling from what he had assumed this conversation would be, Jack could only blink and say, “What is it?”

“You might not like it, and I won’t blame you if you don’t. I want to be very clear about that.” Her gaze fell to her hand, as if her fidgeting with his button had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. “I’d like you to try holding my throat while we’re making love. Hold it so that I can’t breathe.”

“You want me to… to _strangle_ you?”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose. It’s said to increase the intensity of the climax.”

“I’ve heard that said, but…”

He didn’t know what else to say. He fully felt the weight of Phryne’s trust in him, and for many months she had taught him to be open about his desires for their mutual pleasure. But this! The risk of hurting her was too great, and the thought of watching himself choke her was repulsive to him.

“Jack,” she said gently. She leaned forward and kissed him. “Jack, you can say no. I won’t be hurt or disappointed. I know it’s a serious, sensitive thing I’m asking.”

“I can’t answer tonight,” he said. He traced his fingers down her slender, fragile, graceful, strong, beautiful throat and watched her eyelids fall, her lips part. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to say through the tightness in his chest, and the multiple meanings were lost on neither of them.

“You would never,” she replied.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now your palette cleanser, a dialogue-heavy bit of (serious) fun with Mac

“Good morning, Doctor.”

“Inspector.” Elizabeth MacMillan looked up from her clipboard and gave Jack a bemused look over the body between them. “This wasn’t a murder,” she said.

“Oh, I know,” he said. He turned his hat in his hands.

“Can I… help you with something?”

She must think him a proper fool – and perhaps he was. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to get your medical advice. On asphyxiation.”

“How to stop it? The signs we look for in an autopsy?”

“Not exactly. I need to know how to do it.”

“Had enough of Bert at last, have you?”

In spite of himself, Jack sputtered a laugh. “Ah… no. Not today. There’s a case, you see, involving the sexual use of strangulation in order to achieve…” He trailed off. “I need to know if there’s a way to do it safely.”

“No,” she said in that final, matter-of-fact way of hers.

“So if a… person of interest, so to speak, wanted to make it as safe as possible, there’s no way to… well, do that?”

She cocked her head towards her office. “Come in. I have whiskey.” Jack followed her in and accepted the glass she offered. Before she poured, she hesitated. “You’re not on duty, are you?”

“No,” he said.

He couldn’t help smiling as she gave him a generous two fingers of the drink. They leaned against her desk, side by side, and sipped.

“Is this about Phryne?” she asked.

“Isn’t it always?”

“Hypoxia – that is, denying oxygen to the brain – is never safe. _Never._ As a doctor, I can only say in the strongest terms that you should never do it.” Jack stared down into his glass, feeling a rush of relief. “Now,” she went on, throwing back the rest of her glass, “let me tell you what not to do.”

“I… what?”

“Since you’re not going to do it, shouldn’t you know how not to do it? Never apply too much pressure because that would cut off the air flow completely, and never place your hand over the larynx. It’s too easily damaged. Don’t use anything too thin, like twine. It causes more injury.”

“What are the risks?”

“Heart attack. Damage to the brain. Death.” She collected his empty – when had that happened? – glass and stowed the whiskey away. “The things you two risk every day, essentially.” She rejoined him at the desk and crossed her arms.

After a moment of silence, he said, “It seems to be important to her.”

“Not so important that she would want you to do something that makes you very uncomfortable.”

“She said as much.”

“Phryne is young and in perfect health. If the thing were done carefully, the risk would be greatly reduced. But it _is_ dangerous.”

He glanced at her. “Would you do it?”

“I can’t answer that,” she said. “But I can tell you that Phryne has been choked, and not out of love, and for her to ask you to do it… means something.”

They were quiet for a long time.

“I can’t put my hand on her neck and strangle her,” Jack admitted. “I can’t.”

“There are other ways to achieve a similar result. A scarf or tie. Cut off the blood flow in the carotid arteries instead of stopping the breath. Cover the mouth but not the nose. Or restrict the nose and put… well, objects or…” She cleared her throat. “Put something in the mouth. I wouldn’t recommend that unless you want to deal with vomit.”

Jack winced. “No.”

“She can also restrict her own breathing by simply not doing it.”

“That doesn’t seem very effective.”

“You’re an intelligent man, Inspector, if there is such a thing. Think about what you’re comfortable with, think about what she really wants from this, and talk to her. Now, for Christ’s sake, can we end this conversation?”


	3. Chapter 3

Phryne unclasped her necklace and laid it carefully down on her dresser. Drawn to movement in the reflection of the room behind her, she smiled as Jack stepped up to her and bent to kiss her shoulder, his hands smoothing down her arms. When his hands reached hers, she laced their fingers together.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” she sighed, tilting her head to encourage his wandering lips.

“Each of your aunt’s parties seems longer than the last,” he mumbled against her skin.

“Or you’re getting older.”

“Mmm,” he replied, a vibration directly over her pulse.

She turned in his arms and set to work on his remaining clothes. She herself was already in her silk robe, her device in place. Their exchanged glances over the course of the evening left each of them in no doubt about what they wanted at the end of the evening. And if she had teased him here and there with a wink, a touch of her tongue to her lips, or a squeeze of his arm, he had played the game by… well, just by being there, looking the way he did in a suit. Having those eyes and those lips. Curving his mouth in that smile only she could see.

While she unbuttoned his trousers, he stroked the backs of his fingers down her neck. “Do you like that?” he asked, as if her sigh and shiver hadn’t already confirmed it.

“Not enough evidence to say. Do it again.”

He tilted his head and smiled at her cheek. “I’ll keep doing it for as long as you can hold your breath.”

Her stomach flipped as adrenaline shot through her. “Jack,” she whispered.

“If that’s…”

“Yes.”

She pinned his gaze with her own and breathed in deeply. Jack feathered his fingertips down one side of her neck and then the other. Her hands clenched as she held onto his waistband, her toes curling into the floor. He leaned forward – so slowly, damn him – and kissed a trail from her clavicle up to her ear before she rocked into him and took a breath.

Even more desperate for him now, she dragged him to the bed by his waistband and ordered him to finish undressing while she shrugged off her robe. If he was amused or smug, he was too aroused to show it. They fell into bed together, mouths impatient and greedy.

“Do it again, Jack,” she begged, hitching her leg over his hip.

He palmed her breast. “I intend to. I’m going to lick and suck you until you run out of breath.”

She nodded and inhaled and held his head to her breast with both hands as he licked a nipple into his mouth and began to tease it with his tongue and teeth. She quickly discovered that every groan and whimper was a waste of precious air, so she folded her lips together and shut her eyes, her fingers flexing in his hair. Her feet moved restlessly against the sheets as she struggled to hold on to every second of his mouth on her flesh. When she finally gave up, gasping, Jack moved up to kiss her mouth, and she felt as if she were breathing him in.

He slid his hand down to her stomach, his fingertips just touching her curls. “More?” he asked.

“Please, Jack.”

“Deep breath, love,” he murmured, and then he lowered his fingers to caress her while his lips moved over her neck.

It was getting more and more difficult to hold her breath through her arousal and exertion, and she didn’t last as long as she wanted. Jack stopped moving his fingers, but he kept his hand on her as he kissed her forehead, where she could feel sweat beading.

“Are you all right?”

“Better than.”

Jack smiled and rolled onto his back, pulling her astride him. He fanned his fingers over her neck, and she tilted her head back, eyes closed. “Put your hand on mine,” he said.

She opened her eyes to look at him and did as he asked. His throat moved as he swallowed, the doubt and fear in his face as plain as day. “Are _you_ all right?” she asked, stroking his fingers with her own.

“I’m not going to choke you,” he said. He tightened his hand slightly. “Tell me when it’s just enough to make breathing difficult without hurting you or cutting off air entirely.”

After a moment, she said hoarsely, “There.”

“You can breathe?” 

“Yes.”

“Keep your hand on mine. Squeeze if it needs to be a little tighter. Relax if I need to loosen my grip. If you want to stop entirely, drop your hand away.” She nodded her understanding. “Promise me that you won’t let it go too far, Phryne.”

It struck her at last that this wasn’t only about trusting Jack. She had asked him to trust her as well. If losing her agency and self to a man was one of her greatest fears, she knew that putting her life at risk was one of Jack’s. He was not only doing that for her tonight, but he was giving her the control of it.

“I promise,” she whispered.

She reached between them and guided him into her body as she sank down. Jack had closed his eyes, and she stopped herself from telling him to look at her, something they frequently said to each other. It was possible, she realized, that he didn’t want to see his hand squeezing her throat. The swell of physical pleasure, love for him, and pure adrenaline were combining to push her into a swift orgasm.

Slowing the roll of her hips slightly, she tightened Jack’s grip on her neck a little. He opened his eyes, and she smiled at him. “I can breathe,” she assured him. “I’m close, Jack. I’m going to make this very intense and fast.”

He gave a single nod, and she was pleased to see that he didn’t close his eyes again as she began to fuck him in earnest, encouraging him to tighten his hold on her. She had promised him that she wouldn’t cut off her ability to breathe, and she didn’t. As she neared the finish, though, she inhaled as deeply as she could with her airflow so restricted. Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to hold her breath any longer, she felt Jack’s fingers reach between their bodies to help her along, and her orgasm rolled through her in a powerful wave. Her hand fell away from Jack’s, and immediately he released her throat. The flood of oxygen and pleasure made her fall limply against his chest.

“Jack,” she exhaled, the warm presence of his body beneath hers the only reminder that she was still anchored to earth. He was still hard inside her, stroking her hair with his fingers as Phryne showered kisses on his chest and neck.

He rolled her beneath him and cradled her head in his hands as he loved her with long, slow thrusts. She tightened her legs around him, her arms hooked around his shoulders, moving in harmony with him until he found his own release.

He fell to her side, and they turned to face each other, hands laced between them. “I love you, Jack,” she said softly. “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I can’t do it again,” he said.

“I won’t ask you to.” She smiled a little, tracing his mouth with her fingertip. “The first game, though, where I hold my breath…?”

“You liked it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“That I can do,” he smiled.

Phryne swallowed the lump in her throat, still mapping his features with her fingers. “My Jack,” she murmured. She used her arms and legs to pull him closer. “Thank you for letting me breathe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is so short. This is easier for me to tackle in bits and pieces.


End file.
